


ain't never been a saviour, a wounded soul like me

by queenwithoutacrown



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Panic Attacks, johnnyswiminthekastle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenwithoutacrown/pseuds/queenwithoutacrown
Summary: Frank broke his ankle in the most boring way possible - helping David clean his rain gutter. Yeah, really. It was almost too much a cliché to be true.[...]It took six weeks and a stupid cast to heal a broken ankle. It took a whole lot more to mend whatever else needed fixing inside him. Broken minds were far more fickle.(johnnyswiminthekastle week - day 2: falling for me)





	ain't never been a saviour, a wounded soul like me

_Day 0_

 

Frank broke his ankle in the most boring way possible - helping David clean his rain gutter. Yeah, really. It was almost too much a cliché to be true.

It had been drizzling for the better part of an hour, but they had almost been done with it, no need to stop then. The suburban aesthetic still messed with his mind, but it hit him less on the head with David actually around.

He climbed down the ladder, missing the last slippery step and crashed down onto his left foot with his full body weight. The ankle twisted and Frank found himself on the wet grass in the Lieberman's front yard. The sudden pain knocked the breath out of his lungs for a second.

"Fuck."

"You okay there?" David moved over to him, helping him up. He tried to stand up, but the moment he put weight on his foot pain struck through his bone and along every nerve in his leg. Still he kept standing.

He didn't do more than wince at the inconvenience. He'd had worse. The shit number the Irish had pulled on him, for example. It was even the same damn foot.

They walked into the house; or more truthfully, David walked and Frank used him as a human crutch to tag along. Just like old times.

He could easily do without the reminiscing.

"It's nothing," Frank said, letting himself fall onto the couch, but he knew it wasn't true. The ankle was swelling up, already turning a sickly shade of purple. Denial wasn't gonna cut it here.

"Sure man, that's exactly what it looks like. You just won the lottery and your prize is an x-ray at your local hospital. Congrats."

"Shut up."

He let David drive him to the hospital, there wasn't much he could do against it. And wasn't that something normal people did?

See, it's why he preferred his hermitism to spending time with other people, he'd not once broken his ankle during the last few years he'd been out almost every night in the streets. His nose, his ribs, sure, but he had always been able to walk away from a fight on his own two legs.

The incident where Red had to carry him across half the city not counting.

Ain't gonna work with that ugly cast on his foot the doctor insisted on now.

Karen picked him up from the emergency room. The belt on her coat had been tied in a hurry, the collar slightly messed up. From the looks of it she'd left the office immediately. He didn't know what David had said to her on the phone, but it must've been exaggerated, for sure.

Because she got her worry expression on her face, the one she wore too often around him for his taste. Frank gave her a thumbs up and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

"Hey, can't leave you out of my sight for a minute, huh?"

"Blame Lieberman."

She smiled, put a kiss to his temple, using his sitting position to her advantage. A hand ran through his hair and the sensation tingled on his scalp. It helped, to know she was there even for the most mundane of his injuries. He felt like an idiot, but Karen cared. He didn't deserve it.

They'd been together for a while now, a few months, since he'd gotten his shit together enough to not run for the hills whenever she touched him out of comfort. Ever since he owned up to the fact that she actually wanted him.

"I'm glad it's just your ankle," she told him sincerely. Karen gently tapped against the plaster with the tip of her heels. "I can sign it, right?"

"Sure, but I expect nothing short of calligraphy."

"Nah, I'd rather print an article onto it."

"Works too."

She reached over and handed him two crutches. "Let's go."

 

 

 

_Day 1_

 

"I'm still very capable," he told her three times before she downed her cup of coffee, started dressing and actually leaving for work.

"I know. Don't break your other leg while I'm gone." Karen smirked as she buttoned up her blouse. She knew it riled him up, she knew him far too well at this point.

She still left her laptop on the bed, dropped one last kiss to his lips.

His foot was propped up on two pillows. A cup of coffee, a box of cereals, a carafe of water and a bottle of OTC pain killers were neatly lined up on the bedside table. It had been a while since he'd been so well cared for. Felt weird, if he thought about it for too long.

The apartment was too quiet without her. Frank usually didn't spend too much time here alone. He had a key and he let himself in, at her explicit request, but mostly he was only ever there with Karen. He knew she wanted him there, but Karen was the main selling of the place.

No TV show held his interest long enough to really be worth watching, so he proceeded to continue one of the books Curtis had shoved at him at the last meeting. But that too was only a temporary relief. In the end he put everything aside and just stared at the ceiling.

His skin was buzzing with the need to do something. It hadn't even been 24 hours yet, but he felt shackled to a wall, like a wild tiger thrown into a cage.

The start of the most boring six weeks of his life.

 

 

 

_Day 7_

 

He rediscovered cooking for himself.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

Baking had never been his style, he lacked the sweet tooth and the knack of working with batter and the decorating that was expected, but once upon a time he'd been good at cooking. Back when he was still a different man, when eating wasn't just a matter of survival.

Karen's tiny kitchen soon resembled some haute cuisine restaurant, with all the spices and random ingredients he stocked up on. It took some serious effort on his part.

She didn't mind at all, trying his creation when she came home from work late in the evening.

It felt nice to share this together.

It had his heart beating faster, out of gratitude, out of fear.

 

 

 

_Day 11_

 

"Stop scratching," Karen admonished. Frank looked towards where she was sitting at the kitchen island, the ballpoint pen still between his skin and the cast. It wasn't one of her good ones, he'd checked first.

"It's itching."

The gaze she threw at him, likely supposed to be a stern reprimand, was really working for him here. The 'hot librarian'-look she had going for her was something else entirely.

Karen definitely noticed too.

"Need me to scratch the itch, hmm?" She asked in that husky tone, and fuck it, but he nodded all too eagerly. He threw the pen behind him, heard it hit the bookshelf. Karen got up from the stool, slowly making her way towards him.

Her hips swayed on purpose, while she unbuttoned her blouse with one hand. She pulled it over head, then let her camisole follow.

Karen in nothing but a bra was still a sight he couldn't get enough of. Karen without a bra was plainly said the highlight of his waking and not waking hours, but he preferred to take care of that himself and she knew. Her body looked like it was carved by some sculptor out of marble.

He ran his hands down her back, enjoyed the feel of her soft skin underneath his palms. Their options in terms of positions were kinda limited though. He could move his leg, but it was awkward with the cast. Karen made the most out of it.

"Okay?" she asked and he hummed in return.

Karen lifted her hips and together they worked down his sweat pants and boxer shorts. Her hands were firmly planted on his chest and upper arm, always mindful of the shrapnel scar. One wandered downwards, mapping even more scars on the way, until she stroked his dick.

With little preamble she lined him up with her entrance and sunk down on him. Whatever he had thought about before was gone, any thought he'd ever had in his life turned to smoke in the wind.

Sharing intimacy like this was still novel. It felt like learning a new language, the alphabet was the same, the words were decidedly not.

"Better?"

He pulled her down to him and caught her mouth with his, biting down on her lower lip. "Much."

 

 

 

_Day 23_

 

It came out of nowhere.

One moment he sat on the couch with Karen's feet in his lap, watching the news together while they were half-asleep but already too lazy to head to bed properly. The next he didn't know how to take another breath.

It was like being chained to a hospital bed all over again.

She'd seen him at his lowest points in life, in his weakest and most vulnerable moments. But it wasn't supposed to be like this anymore. This was supposed to be after, where their demons couldn't torment them anymore.

Frank should've guessed it wouldn't be so easy.

The panic attacks always hit him out of nowhere. Considerably less than they used to, but sometimes it still shock him right to the core.

"Breathe."

He was on the floor, chest heaving, fighting for air. Karen put a hand on his back and told him how to work through it. 

Not the fucking plan.

They sat there for ages, hands clasped together, weathering the storm. 

 

 

 

_Day 33_

 

It's like the beginning of a bad joke, _How many marines does it take to change a lightbulb?_

Well, more than one apparently if Frank Castle was involved.

The ceiling lamp in the bathroom had burned out late in the evening before, the only proper source of light in the small room. It didn't matter during the day; a window was letting enough light in. But in the early evening he decided to put himself to good use.

He was bored out of his mind.

He wasn't exactly successful.

His balance was off, the stool not the perfect height and he broke one lightbulb and cut his hand on the shards, before screwing one in on his second try. He almost fell down the chair as well. Overall it was a cringe-worthy mess.

Karen's face of disapproving disappointment when she caught him with the first aid kit as she returned from work didn't make it any better. Her mouth formed a tight line, lips pressed together.

"Only cut myself," he explained and pointed at the remains of the first lightbulb, at the chair behind him. "It's nothing."

"You could've just waited for me to do it, you know," she said. She was smiling, but her voice was still a little strained.

"I changed a lightbulb, not fucked up some drug deal in the streets."

Karen huffed. "Not like you wouldn't love to do just that."

"You think I enjoy being dependent on you? Not being able to protect you?"

"You don't need to protect me from anything," she said vehemently. This was spiralling way out of control.

"That's bullshit."

"Why is it that between the two of us I'm the still the only one that cares about you? You care about me more than you care about yourself."

"What do you want from me? What do you wanna hear, Karen?" Frank didn't want to hurt her, he never did. But maybe he could make her see reason, finally. Bring her over the edge, kick his ass to the curb, good riddance.

That's what he deserved.

Left outside, a dead man walking. The domestic life they were building for themselves here, Frank wanted it all. And he wanted it with Karen, together. But every want could be held against him, could be taken away from him.

"I want you to try, not me, but you. Not more, not less. Just try," Karen pleaded. Still advocating his case, after all this time. Only this time the jury was him. The end result would be just as devastating.

"Maybe that's all I've got to give. A big load of nothing."

"You know it's not true."

"Well, seems you're wrong."

 _You're dead to me;_ when he listened closely he could still hear it.

Some days he thought he should've just stayed dead to her, for her sake.

Karen pushed strands of hair out of her face, shuffled on her feet, a few steps back and forth. She looked miserable, in every sense of the word. And he was the one doing this to her.

He deserved a fist to the face, broken bones and the pain that followed.

"You know I'm not expecting sunshine and flowers, right?"

"Why not?" he questioned.

"For god's sake, I love you, just like this, that's not going to change any time soon."

Her eyes opened wide, a sea of deep blue with pupils blown up. She hadn't meant to yell it, hadn't meant to say it at all, he could see it clear as day.

_I love you._

They had avoided the topic perfectly fine. The connection between them was something, something not describable, something tangible. Terms and definition were for people who needed them.

They weren't those people.

He didn't know how to react to it. Once again he didn't know what she wanted to hear from him.

Because of course he loved her. He'd rip out his own limbs himself for her, stand between anybody who'd come between them. And those were just all the hypothetical scenarios he'd go through. He wore the scars on his body, caused by bullets that had been meant for her and he would add many more if it meant she didn't have to.

He loved her, in the quiet moments in the morning when they were brushing their teeth next to each other, fighting for the best spot in front of the mirror. He loved in the crowded subway, pressed close to each other. He loved her always and it scared the shit out of him.

He didn't deserve it and he never thought he'd be lucky enough to experience this kind of love ever again.

"Karen..."

She held out her hands, halting him right there. "Don't you dare." She turned, blindly grabbing for a jacket and her purse.

"Karen."

The helpless plea of a wounded animal.

He tried to go after her, but with the cast he was still restricted and too slow. All he saw was the back of Karen's head, the shimmer of blonde hair in the dimly lit hallway.

The door didn't slam shut behind her.

Just slid close with a click.

And then he was left behind alone.

 

 

 

_Day 34_

 

Frank didn't worry, he told himself.

She'd grabbed her bag on the way out; he knew her gun was safely tucked inside it. Karen was smart, even when she was furious at him.

She loved him.

But minutes turned to hours and she didn't come back.

He went to bed, with what intention he didn't know. Sleep wouldn't come at any rate, that was a given. His insomnia kept him awake during good times, now with the cast and Karen somewhere out in the city he didn't hold out any hope of getting any.

She was a grown woman, she could hold her own.

Fuck it, of course he worried.

He was a creature of the dark, the monster under the bed, yet he felt out of his place. The dark wasn't a comfort, it was a playground for his worst fears to become reality. Frank stared at the ceiling and counted the seconds.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention somewhere around 4am. Karen tried to be quiet, but the hinges creaked a little and he was so on alert nothing could slip past him anyway.

She padded into the bathroom first, he listened to her brushing her teeth, changing her clothes, switching off the lights. Only then she stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

"Knew you'd be awake," she mumbled. She slipped under the covers without hesitation, but kept a distance between them. They weren't touching.

Frank hated it.

With the curtains shut and no light on, he could barely make out her silhouette. The night was theirs, always had been. Their secrets, emotions, seemed to flow easier in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," Karen said. "For throwing this at you and not giving you a chance to react. I surprised myself as well, I guess."

"Not like I gave you one. There's nothing-," he breathed out, "nothing to feel sorry about."

She inched closer, until they were almost touching under the heavy blanket. But still there was no contact.

Frank knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. He rolled onto his side, slinging an arm around her middle, and buried his face in her clavicle.

"I love you too," he spoke directly into her skin, as if he could tattoo it onto it, make it stick and visible for them to see. "And you're right. I care a lot more about you than I care about myself."

Her hands stroked through his hair, down his back, over and over again. "Didn't notice."

"It's just---"

Whatever he had planned to say, it got stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Karen took hold of his jaw, tipped his head upwards and looked directly inside his eyes. The light sheen of tears was still visible.

"We aren't blank slates, we've lived before we've met each other. We just gotta live with it now together," she faltered. "I can stomach the thought of losing another person I care about just as badly as you can. I can't risk losing you."

He was aware of her history, of her brother and the demise of her family. It wasn't fair to expect of her what he couldn't handle himself. Despite their differences in life experience they were far more alike than was good for them sometimes. It was what made their relationship so extraordinary.

"I understand that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Karen let go of his face, placing her hands on his chest instead, so close thankfully.

"We good then?" he asked, because he had to be sure he didn't fuck up one of the few good things in his life, the best in comparison.

Her lips curled to a smile. "We are." 

 

 

 

_Day 36_

 

He invited her out to an actual, proper date. As far as apologies went, it was one of his better ones.

 

 

 

_Day 42_

 

It took six weeks and a stupid cast to heal a broken ankle. It took a whole lot more to mend whatever else needed fixing inside him. Broken minds were far more fickle.

Karen waited for him again, when he walked out of the examination room on both legs without crutches. At least three other people in the waiting room were checking her out more or less unsuspiciously, but she only had eyes for him.

It rekindled something inside him that had long gone cold, something now burning bright.

It was worth a try. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Falling For Me - Johnnyswim  
> Tumblr: qqueenwithoutacrown
> 
> Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts. <3


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